To Spill My Brother's Blood
by Misty Waters
Summary: A character/relationship study of the twins using boxing as plot fodder. Incest


They're 18. It's the middle of the night, and they're staring each other down in the back yard with only the moon for illumination. They're sweating in their sleep clothes, taking swings at each other with boxing mitts that are slightly too big. They're trying to stay as quiet as they can, though each swing, each strike and clumsy attempt at dodging is done with such effort and vigor, it's a wonder they don't wake the whole neighborhood.

Johnny's particularly vicious tonight. He won't let them go back in until there's blood, and he doesn't even care who's. Sweat isn't good enough, not even tears. He wants blood.

And Jimmy knows this. He would like to go back to bed, but partly out of the sheer thrill of defiance, and partly because he knows he can, he wants the tribute to spill from his brother, not himself. Though it would be so easy to just let his opponent get in a good punch...

/

Johnny had both hands on Jimmy's shoulders from behind, so that both sets of eyes could gaze back at themselves and each other in the mirror. When Johnny broke into a grin, Jimmy did too, as they both shared the same memory. Some years ago, they'd encountered themselves for the first time dressed to the nines like this. They had laughed then, in love with what laughed right back. Johnny's grin faded just a bit as he slipped to Jimmy's side and adjusted his tie, inspecting him once again in the mirror.

Jimmy sent his grateful smile to Johnny's reflection and then closed his eyes as he was slowly, silently, closed into his brother's arms. Johnny was supremely careful not to disrupt the meticulous order he had established upon Jimmy's suit as he reached his hand around Jimmy's hip. His other hand ghosted over hair he had so lovingly combed and shaped into the exact same style as his own. He let his hand slip down and stroke across Jimmy's face, fingertips lightly stroking cheek, thumb caressing over nose. He leaned in, while gently guiding Jimmy to mirror his motion, and their open mouths met. They exhaled from the nose simultaneously, but where Johnny was restrained, Jimmy was needy, trying to take more than he was given.

When Johnny pulled his face back to truncate the kiss before it led to mussed up hair, Jimmy retaliated by bringing his brother's hand to his groin, where it automatically opened over Jimmy's erection as though it were his own. With a stern look, Johnny indulged his brother for a few seconds, before wrenching his hand free and lending his attention once again to Jimmy's hair. With a few swipes he had it tamed once more to his preference, and he led the way into the sitting room with the blood red wallpaper...

/

They're learning. Hard to say who is advancing more than the other; while they're both much improved, the fight is still frustratingly even. Now it is a matter not of trying to out-box the other with skill, but by exploiting the other's habits. Johnny now knows how to let his brother distract himself with his own uncontrolled zeal, while Jimmy can spot a feint from a real jab-to-be.

But one thing Jimmy hasn't quite mastered yet is pacing himself. Because now he's tired, and it shows. His brother takes advantage, pummeling him, driving him across the yard, hissing at him to block or dodge even as the attacks keep coming. He warns his brother he won't hold back. The next hit is going to sting.

If Jimmy understands the seriousness of the situation, he's unable to rise to the challenge; he can't block his face in time, and he's given up trying to fight back. They're both on the ground by the time Johnny finally realizes he's hurting his brother and stops. He rips his mitts off and cradles Jimmy's head in his hands and whimpers over him, because all he can see is blood, black and thick in the moonlight.

Jimmy basks in the attention for a while before miraculously reviving and driving himself into Johnny's arms. Now it's his turn to comfort the other, assuring him his nose isn't broken, that he's alright, etc.

Jimmy's devious smile is hidden as he presses his cheek against Johnny's. Johnny's gotten his blood now. He's got it all over himself...

/

The twins both sneered down at the man kneeling at their feet. He was already roughed up, already bleeding and unable to see out of one eye. An extra mean, beefed up goon stood just behind the prisoner, alternating his gaze from scowling at the man on the floor, and expectant glances at the Krays.

The reason this man was here was no secret to any of them, and the brothers were not interested in discussing the crime or his reason behind it. Lee, their prisoner, had been hired to take out one or both of the Krays, and had taken his terrible shot at them while they were at lunch with Mum. Nearly scared her to death, he did.

Of course the boys wanted nothing more than to punish this mug properly, but he needed to be alive and relatively well for just a while longer.

While Jimmy scowled, Johnny cooled. He leaned forward on the couch, far enough to reach Lee's face with his hand. He gently guided his chin upwards. "Look at me, Lee. Come on. There's a good boy!" He grinned and slapped Lee's cheek a few times, wetting his hand with the man's tears. He shushed the man's pitiful attempts to apologize and beg for leniency and acted like they were just having a friendly chat.

"Now, Lee. I want to make this easy on you. Don't you want it to be easy?" Johnny's voice was syrupy sweet and soft, much like his thumb stroking his captive's cheek. Apparently his attitude was far too kind for Jimmy, who was sitting cross armed and cross legged, as if physically holding his rage in. Lee couldn't handle looking at Jimmy for too long, and looked to Johnny for what little shred of comfort he could find. And for a moment, he actually believed that he would survive his mistake.

Lee didn't so much as nod as let his head vibrate in a sudden spasm. He only stopped when Johnny took his hand off his face.

Clasping his hands in his lap, Johnny urged, "Who put you up to it? Just give me a name."

But Lee was too scared. He insisted he'd be killed for revealing it.

Johnny laughed and threw a glance to Jimmy, who answered with a half grin of his own. Johnny said with a smile, "You're dead anyway, mate. No getting out of that. But what you can do, is you can earn yourself a nice and easy death. Wouldn't you prefer that? Hmm? Nice shot through the ole' temple, yeah? Be done in a jif."

Lee cried and protested some more, until Jimmy finally snapped, shoving his brother aside to personally address Lee. His version of interrogation was quite a bit more hands on. He was on the floor, throttling Lee by the time Johnny could pull him off.

Johnny pushed his brother back onto the couch and gave him a scolding look. Nearly a full minute of heated, yet wordless exchange passed between them before Johnny turned back to Lee. His breathing had increased in intensity from the exertion of subduing his brother, but otherwise, he dropped right back into his previous demeanor. But he couldn't be too annoyed, as now he could explain to Lee how terrible it would be if he continued to be so taciturn. Now he had a choice: which Kray did he want to kill him?

Finally, Lee broke down and sobbed a name. Johnny frowned and asked again. Same answer. He looked to Jimmy, who shrugged, still exuding an aura of extreme hostility. The name belonged to a very minor player, a man they had largely ignored because he was so unimportant.

Well, he had certainly earned his chops today.

Johnny was sure it wouldn't matter fuck all to Jimmy exactly who had hired the would-be assassin. It didn't matter to him that he'd been hired at all, Jimmy still wanted to tear him apart and Johnny'd be lying if he didn't whole-heartedly agree, but they had to postpone their vengeance until the sniper's boss was caught, or he'd have to deal with this nonsense all over again. And besides, Johnny rather liked the idea of making an example out of the man that few would forget.

Johnny ordered Lee to bring his boss back, or more accurately, show the goon watching over him where to find the doomed man so he could be brought back. Lee was encouraged to make it quick.

Johnny was satisfied with waiting, but Jimmy was not. As soon as the pair left the room, Jimmy lashed out at Johnny. He knew there was nothing to do now but wait, but he was filled to overflowing with murderous rage, made all the more dangerous by impotence. He spewed bitter curses, meant for Lee, at Johnny, who quietly led him to the gym-or rather, a rec-room they'd fixed up for that purpose. It was minimal, but private.

Jimmy calmed down a notch when he realized his dear brother was going to give him a chance to blow off some steam. Eagerly they both changed into their work out gear and entered the ring...

/

Johnny is fussing over Jimmy like some kind of mother hen in the shower, rinsing his bloody face over and over, turning his head this way and that, hemming and hawing over the nose that just won't quit bleeding, the cut by his eye that will look just awful for weeks. No way they can hide this from Mum.

But Johnny can deal with that later. Right now he has to make sure Jimmy's alright. The tub looks like a murder scene by the time they're through, and they've ruined a towel just from Jimmy's nose. Jimmy protests and puts on a brave face, but in truth he's feeding off this intense one-on-one attention, the monopoly over his brother's care. It's well worth the beating.

When the brothers are dried, they forsake dress and jump right into bed. For the past two years they've been sleeping in the same bed, using the other as basically a desk or a couch. They don't act in any way unseemly for brothers if they think anyone could be watching, including Mum, but that one dusty bed makes it pretty obvious. Not that their mother has ever mentioned a thing. In fact, the boys often suspect that she approves. Who better to look after them than each other, after all? Who could possibly have the sheer magnitude of love to spare that they both require?

Jimmy has a scrap of tissue up his nose, and Johnny has more for when he needs it. "Sorry," he says, gathering his brother up in his arms.

"'S ok," Jimmy yawns. "'S not your fault." He nuzzles Johnny's neck.

"You're right, it's not," Johnny scolds, but his embrace is no less tender. "You weren't blocking properly, like I showed you."

"I know," Jimmy whines. "I was tired, alright? Fuck's sake."

"Fuck tired. What if I were a real opponent, eh? What if I really wanted to hurt you?"

"Christ, Johnny! Lemme fuckin' sleep. I'm knackered." Caring, motherly attention was nice. Physical combat was arousing. But this? Fuck this.

Johnny grumbles and squeezes his brother. He strokes hair out of Jimmy's eyes and kisses the tip of his nose. "Fine," he says sternly. "But you're not off the hook."

"Fuck you," Jimmy says with his last bit of energy. Johnny chuckles as his brother falls asleep in his arms. He wriggles in bed to get more comfortable and quickly follows him...

/

Johnny missed that jab by the skin of his teeth. He even felt a breeze rush across his face from the sheer power of it, and nearly tripped over his own feet in his escape. And just as he had been taught, Jimmy pounced upon his brother before he could recover, slamming a mean punch into his side.

Johnny fell against the ropes and rolled to safety, his body reacting faster than his mind could process the situation. One furtive glance at Jimmy told him he could expect no quarter. Jimmy wanted-needed-blood, and he didn't care whom it came out of.

Now, over the years, Johnny had dropped from the boxing game, his only involvement serving as a coach and assistant to jimmy. He still sparred with him from time to time just for fun, but this battle Jimmy was subjecting him to was way out of his league.

In his haste to avoid another clobbering, Johnny scrambled on his hands and knees to the other end of the ring, while Jimmy loomed over him, stalking him. He choked back a plea for mercy, or even a command to stop, even though he knew Jimmy would obey it. This latest assassination attempt would be enough to drive Jimmy past even Johnny's control if he didn't have some kind of outlet.

Johnny managed to steal a few precious seconds to get up to face his brother with renewed energy. The two circled each other, their stares hungry, eager to spot the first sign of weakness in the other.

Jimmy blocked the first jab, but was too slow for the uppercut to his gut. For a few moment he floundered beneath a sudden barrage. Johnny only stopped when he socked Jimmy hard on the nose, causing a vicious, red spray. He hesitated just long enough to make sure Jimmy was alright, and Jimmy used this opportunity to drive Johnny into the opposite corner, trapping him before he knew what was happening. Johnny hid his head behind his mitts, so Jimmy focused on his ribs instead. He took more blows than he could count by the time he finally shoved Jimmy off and darted away from the corner.

They were both panting and ready to drop, Johnny more so than Jimmy. They were soaked in sweat and blood, but neither was willing to give up, so entranced were they by the sheer, exhausting intensity of the fight. And they would have driven themselves to collapse if not for one of their boys coming in to tell them that Lee and his boss had returned.

And just like that, the hostile spell lifted, and the Krays were brothers once again. Jimmy fell into step with Johnny, letting him gently guide him out of the ring and over to the shower nearby with a hand at the shoulder. They would have appeared to the young associate to be reluctant to deal with the problem awaiting them in the sitting room, with their dour faces and tense silence, but in truth were hiding desperate, bloodthirsty excitement. That match had wearied their bodies but whetted their appetites. There really was nothing like sharing a victim with each other, like a feast plentiful enough for them both.

Johnny waved the boy off, and when he left, the brothers stripped. Under the hot blast of the shower, Johnny carefully inspected Jimmy's face for injuries, while Jimmy stared back at his brother with a decidedly different interest. While Johnny washed Jimmy's face, rubbing the caked blood off his lip, Jimmy slipped his hands to his brother's hips and pulled them together. Jimmy sucked in a hissing breath, showing his teeth, while Johnny pretended to ignore it. He remained stoic and focused on the job of cleaning his brother up while being groped, lightly at first, but as Jimmy became agitated by this lack of response, he nearly knocked them both down with his rough, selfish, fondling. He finally got Johnny to stop and gasp when he took rough hold of his ass and clawed a few fingers up his hole. Johnny clung to Jimmy's shoulder as they drove in deeper.

"Don't have...time..." Johnny scolded, or tried to, in a clipped tone. And yet for a moment he was rubbing his face against Jimmy's, open mouthed and shut eyed, alternating between hissing in his Jimmy's ear and biting it. And if this were any other situation awaiting their attention, Johnny would have gladly abandoned the rest of the miserable world for Jimmy.

But this could wait. The torturing of the men that threatened his and his brother's lives was a shiny new toy he was just busting out of his skin to play with. Jimmy would just have to take the back seat on this one.

So he reached behind himself and gripped Jimmy's arm. He squeezed it hard and leveled a harsh look to Jimmy, who returned with a dangerous look of his own before begrudgingly obeying.

Johnny took Jimmy's face in both hands and kissed him deep and hard for one fiery moment and broke contact just as savagely. That kiss was meant to be a peace offering, enough to hold them over until they had a chance to come back to this. However, Johnny's senses were on high alert as he finished washing himself, half expecting his brother to claim him any second.

But Jimmy was a good boy. He kept that predatory look on his face the whole time, but finished up and got dressed without trying anything. Once again Johnny put the finishing touches on his brother's appearance, especially the hair, while Jimmy deliberately acted cold and peevish. Johnny ignored it, and when he was done, slapped Jimmy on the shoulder and led the way to the door.

But before they left, Johnny froze, feeling his brother's fingers hovering over his hair, touching it just enough to send signals to his scalp. In this situation the threat of messing up Johnny's carefully sculpted hair was as dramatic as actually pulling it. It was certainly enough to steal Johnny's undivided attention.

Unimpressed by Johnny's glare, Jimmy grasped the other's wrist and tugged him into extreme proximity. He sneered, noticing the quickening of his brother's pulse at his fingertips. "We're not finished,"

Johnny cracked a dark grin and grabbed Jimmy's hand. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed the back of it. "I never said we were."

Later, maybe in a few hours, maybe a few months, they'd pick up the fight right were they left off, because it was never truly finished. Decades had passed since they had first faced off against each other in the ring, just as their father and uncle had so long ago, and it would keep going for as long as they were physically capable.

They shared one last look that was as vitriolic as it was cleansing before it was time to turn their vicious energies onto someone else.

THE END


End file.
